


I'm Not Guilty, I'm Not

by feeisamarshmallow



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode Tag, Episode: s07e09 Dillman, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23363380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feeisamarshmallow/pseuds/feeisamarshmallow
Summary: I’m not guilty. I’m not guilty. I’m not guilty. I’m not…Even three years after being released from prison, it really hurts Jake to be framed for something he didn't do.Tag to s07e09 Dillman.
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Comments: 18
Kudos: 141





	I'm Not Guilty, I'm Not

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick little unbeta'd tag to the most recent episode. Dialogue from the episode. (Transcribed painstakingly by me!)
> 
> Nothing too graphic, but this is a whole fic about Jake's response to a highly traumatic situation, so proceed accordingly. (Description of an anxiety attack and other related symptoms).
> 
> Because I got thinking that part of the reason Jake was so bothered by Dillman's accusation is that he has been framed for something before, and that time he was sentenced to 15 years in prison. 
> 
> And thanks to [@kufikiria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kufikiria/profile) and [@explodingsnapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/explodingsnapple/pseuds/explodingsnapple) who responded immediately to my question of what season it was in this episode.

After Frank Dillman calls for everyone’s attention, he makes eye contact with Jake and Jake knows exactly what Dillman’s going to say. 

Jake’s legs go numb, and he feels a pit settle in his stomach as Dillman points towards him, “It was Jake Peralta.”

All of a sudden Jake’s holding back tears. _I’m not guilty. I’m not guilty. I’m not guilty. I’m not…_

“What?” He hears the desperation in his voice and tries to focus on the ground that’s tilting beneath his feet. “That’s crazy! The box was on my desk. I’m the victim.” _I don’t deserve to go to jail. I’m being framed. I’m not guilty. I’m not..._

He knows logically it’s Dillman, not Melanie Hawkins, accusing him of planting the glitter bomb, but Dillman’s slow, sly smile looks exactly like Hawkins’. 

He can’t lose his job. He can’t get fired. _I’m not guilty. I’m not guilty. I’m not..._

He vaguely hears Hitchcock and Scully talking in the background, but there’s blood roaring in his ears and he compensates by gesturing with a little too much emphasis. 

“Why would I blow up my own desk?” 

Dillman is eerily calm. His eyes flint-blue and flat. Hawkins is at the stand. She’s laying out the evidence and even Jake can see that she’s got him. She’s got him cornered and no one’s going to believe him. _I’m not guilty. I’m not…_

“...I just heard you say you want to prove to Holt that you’re a great detective. You set the whole thing up. And you would’ve gotten away with it, if not for me.” 

“Wow, you’re a lunatic.” Jake’s angry now, and he lets it seep into his voice. A lunatic. Like Hawkins. She’ll never truly leave him, she’ll follow him forever, just like there’s a part of him forever stuck in his cell at Jericho, forever tied to the constant fear and anxiety of that place. 

“Would a lunatic know that your body temperature just rose nine tenths of a degree, indicating guilt?” Dillman looks so 

“Yes.” But joke’s on Dillman, Jake isn’t guilty, he’s just teetering on the edge of a full-blown panic attack. 

Jake watches Dillman pull a receipt out of his bag, and faintly hears him crow about the discovery. Jake really should be leaving this conversation. Going outside and listing all the things he can smell: the garbage in the alley; car exhaust; the hot dog cart on the corner. But he can’t leave and instead he betrays his panic in the way his words trip out of his mouth. 

“My bag was sitting right next to my desk! Anyone could have put that in there. That evidence would never hold up in trial. You’d be laughed out of court.” _I’m innocent. She’s the dirty cop, I’m trying to convict_ her. _It’s not as it seems, I promise. I’m not guilty. I’m not…_

Jake thinks he can hold it together. It’ll be okay, he can find out who really planted the glitter bomb, but then Holt’s baritone cuts through the clutter in his brain. 

“Go home. You’re suspended until further notice.” 

Holt doesn’t believe him. And he has to get out of here. 

He immediately goes to the elevator, but the buttons blur beneath his fingers and he doesn’t have time to wait for it. He skirts towards the stairs, brushing past a few uniformed officers that mutter when he knocks their coffee cups. 

He thinks he’s going to fall apart when he gets to the stairwell, but he starts counting the steps underneath his feet, so familiar, so worn from years of cops climbing them. 10 steps and then a landing. 10 steps and then a landing. 10 steps and then a landing. 

He’s almost at the first floor when he realizes there’s an echo to each of his footsteps, that Amy has been following behind him the whole time. He’s still angry when he addresses her as they step out of the precinct, but at least the panic has subsided. 

“This is nuts. I can’t believe Holt believes that ridiculous windbag and his sack of lies. Oh, I know everything about glitter and Drake’s elbow,” he taunts. 

“Hollow.” She corrects. He turns to face Amy, her face concerned. 

“Amy please, I just need your support right now, okay.” 

Amy nods, but doesn’t say anything. Jake looks to her eyes for confirmation and then feels another flash of panic. 

“Wait a minute--you do believe me, right?” _Even throughout everything. All the bad press and the tweets telling him to die in prison. Even with Hawkins gloating and Romero killing him in his dreams and 15 long years stretching ahead of him, Amy believed in him. Right? She has to believe in him; he’s not guilty. He’s not...._

“Of course I do. I’m your wife--I’m on your side no matter what.” 

Jake feels relief. He’s pretty sure Amy can see it physically flood through his limbs. He takes a second to breathe, relishing the cool air he pulls into his lungs. 

“Thanks. Same by the way.” His tone is quiet now, the anger vanished. _Amy with her nails bit down to the quick, waiting to receive him in the prison waiting room. Amy hugging him, pulling him in gently and laying her head on his shoulder. Amy bringing him back to their apartment, looking him in the eye and telling him, ‘you’re not guilty.’_

These moments where memories overwhelm him are getting less frequent, and less intense, but even three years later, he still has days like this. Days when he feels like Hawkins is just around the corner ready to jump out at him. Days when he feels like he’s destined to end up back in prison, framed for another crime he didn’t commit. 

But the panic fades quicker than it used to. He now knows how to pull himself from the buzzing thoughts in his brain. Knows to focus on the cool, spring air blowing across his face, and the fidget toy he keeps in his desk. Knows to look for support in the kind, warm eyes of his wife. 

He’s not guilty. And he has to believe that that means it’ll be okay. 

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think (my soul is fed by comments). Or come say hi on tumblr [@feeisamarshmallow](https://feeisamarshmallow.tumblr.com/).


End file.
